Unexpected Warmth
by SailorCheesy
Summary: America is cold at his Halloween party, and Russia seeks to warm him. But how can a freezing nation warm someone? Hot drinks, coats, scarves, and pastries are all answers Ivan tries, but it turns about to be the most unexpected one that does the trick. Fluffy one-shot RusAme for Halloween!


America, shivering, pulls his coat tighter around him, hugging it to his chest and looking around the room. It was all lit up, the entire place filled with happy nations drinking, laughing, talking, just having fun in general. America was having his annual Halloween party, and this year had been a success. Mostly. The only thing bothering him was that stupid commie bastard, Russia, standing in the corner and just... Staring at him, as if he were plotting something. Oh, and Alfred was cold. So there were two things bothering him. But mostly Russia.

America's gaze travels lazily around the room and lands on England, who is sipping a nice, hot cup of tea (that he had brought) and sitting by the fire. Oh, how America longed to sit down and have a warm drink... But all the seats were taken, the drinks had been taken, and so he was forced to stand in the cold. He lingers by the snack table for a moment before moving towards outside, where at least he could escape the penetrating gaze of Ivan's violet orbs. As he walks out the door, he can practically feel Russia's eyes sweeping over his back, traveling down his thighs, then back up to his hands as they close around the door handle and pull on it.

The American is bombarded by wind as he opens the door, blowing that beautiful, messy blonde hair from his face. His eyes are wide for a second with surprise, and Russia can't help but sigh at how beautiful they were, the gentle yet electric blue illuminated by the moonlight. Russia desperately wished to reach out and wrap the blonde up, for he knew how cold the American was, but he had no idea how to do it, or even attempt to. He wanted to warm America up, to make him feel cozy and warm. But how could a cold country such as himself warm America up?

He sees England pouring more steaming tea into a cup from a thermos. Russia pushes from the wall, eyes focusing in on it. He strides over with his sweet smile, staring straight at England and the thermos he held in his pale hands.

"Hello!" He says happily, but his eyes are cold and calculating.

England's head jerks up, and his face is surprised. His thick eyebrows raise and he grips his thermos a little tighter. His voice is calm as he says "Oh, hello, Russia. Enjoying the party?", betraying his frightened demeanor.

"Da, thank you for asking." Russia replies.

"That's nice." England sips his tea again, watching the Russian from the corner of his eye.

Russia leans over and plucks the thermos from his hands. "I will be needing this." He says with a smile that says _"if you say anything, I'll silence you with my pipe."_

England glares, appalled, but allows Russia to take it. He protects the tea cup in his hands and mutters something along the lines of "damn Russian bastard" as the man walks away.

The tall Russian man intimidates his way through the crowd and into the kitchen, where he opens the cupboards until he finds a mug of decent size and a small saucer, which he places a pastry from the snack table on. He suddenly feels nervous. He couldn't just approach them and then hand them over, could he? Sweat beads on his forehead, but he wipes it away.

He did NOT like America. This was simply a favor. Yes, just a favor for a friend who was currently cold, hugging that cute jacket around his lovely body as his beautiful eyes darted around and his long, lanky legs fidgeted and bumped against each other anxiously. Russia sighs. He couldn't understand why he was observing America so closely. Why he imagined the feel of America's soft pink lips on his, why he wondered what it was like to hold those long-fingered, tan hands in his, why he stayed awake at night, staring at the ceiling, thinking of him.

He takes the cup and saucer back out of the kitchen, growling if anyone bumped into him. He couldn't spill this. If he did, he would loose his nerve and end up back in that corner, admiring his sweet American from a distance. The door is only a foot away from him when someone suddenly steps directly in front of him.

"Big brother!" Says a slightly slurred voice. "Big brother, what are you doing?"

Ivan's litter sister, Belarus, stands in front of him. Her long, silver hair was put into a braid, and her bow had been taken out of her hair and was nowhere to be seen. All of her usual makeup was gone, and replaced by a simple pink coat of lip gloss and light blush. Russia had to admit, she looked good. But even with her new looks, he dreaded interacting with her, for fear that she would beg him to marry her to the point where he would be forced to run away, sometimes crying out of fear.

But Belarus simply stared at the silent Russian man for another moment before shrugging and turning away, swaying her hips lightly as she does so. Russia's gaze follows her to the couch, where she sits down next to a short-blonde haired girl, who was wearing Belarus' bow around her wrist and was sipping a cold drink. Liechtenstein. Russia couldn't help but smile at the slight smile on Belarus' face and the blush that came to her cheeks as Liechtenstein talked.

He turns back to the door after a moment and then frowns, seeing France and Spain locked in a passionate kiss right in front of the door. He steps forward, towering over the two, and clears his throat. The two pull apart, and Spain smiles.

"Hola!"

"Kindly move away from the door, da?"

France frowns, eyes traveling out the door window to the American sitting on the steps. A sly grin takes over his face and Russia squirms under it, unhappy that France had figured him out so easily. Usually he was the one figuring people out, staring at people and making them squirm because he knew one of their weaknesses. But Russia could sense that France had just found Russia's biggest weakness, and it scared him.

"Oui, of course~" France purrs, pulling Spain away from the door. "Come, mon amour, let us find a bedroom~"

Russia frowns. "Do not use one of comrade America's bedrooms for whatever you have planned." He says, knowing _exactly _what they had planned.

"Fine, fine, we will find a hotel." France says, smirking.

"Good." Russia's suddenly clammy hand closes around the doorknob and he steps out just as a large gust of wind sweeps across the land.

America shivers and pulls his jacket tighter around him, but to Russia it feels like a sweet summer breeze, and he sighs happily. America starts and whips around, eyes widening when he sees Russia standing there. He turns his back to the man after a moment.

"Hey." He says in a shaky voice.

The Russian man gulps, gathers all of his courage, and sits down rather close to America. "You are cold." He states.

"Yeah."

"Here." Russia hands America the thermos and the cup, but America simply grabs the thermos and gulps the tea down. When he pulls back, he sighs contentedly and looks around.

"You didn't put anything in that, did you?" He asks with a slight chuckle.

Russia lets a sly grin take over his face. "Da."

"What?" America turns to him, both eyebrows raised. "It sounded like you said yes."

"I did."

The American's eyes go wide. "What the fuck did you put in the tea?!"

"Can't you feel it?" Russia asks, putting on a mask of surprise.

"N-No! What did you do to the tea, damn it?!"

"Oh, just a simple love potion." Russia says with a small smile. He looks around, admiring the spiderweb decorations in the trees, the floating skeletons, random tombstones, and fake hands reaching out of the muddy ground.

"What?!"

"Can you feel it, Alfredka?" Russia says in a teasing manner. His pale hand takes America's chin and directs it to his face, smiling at his cute, wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

"No, I can't!" America says, frowning. "And get your hands off me, they're cold!" His face is flushed because of the cold, only making him look cuter to the Russian, whose hands were quickly being forced away from America's chin.

Russia bites his bottom lip and lets his hands fall into his lap. He sets the plate on the concrete of the steps and pulls off his coat. Why did he have to do that? Things were going nice before he had made such a joke, and now Alfred had practically yelled that he didn't feel anything at all for him. He felt like America had slammed a sword right through his heart. He suddenly regretted letting his guard down, allowing his feelings for the American to build. He hated weakness in himself. Why had he decided he could have a little for America? General Winter had always told him that weakness was bad, and he always used to listen. Why had he decided not to this time?

The Russian man drapes his coat over America's shaking shoulders, then unwraps his scarf and fixes it around America's neck. He then stands up, clearing his throat.

"I was only joking, I assure you." He says in a strained voice. "I got the tea from comrade Arthur." After a moment, he adds "Have a good night, Alfredka." And then, Russia grabs the door handle, pulls it open, and rushes back into the crowd.

Several hands try to stop him, probably to wish him a Happy Halloween because everyone was drunk, but he shoves past them all and straight to the front door. Pushing it open, he heaves a giant sigh and rushes to his car. Belarus would be okay, she'd go home with Liechtenstein. Russia glances around as nations pour out of the house or seep back into it, all locked with someone else. Russia had no one. Not even Belarus was with him anymore.

America suddenly comes out the front door, hugging Russia's scarf to his chest and wearing his long coat. Russia notices he's squinting, and then sees that he's not wearing his glasses. He looks confused, squinting around. His hand reaches for his pocket, and he fumbles as he pulls something out for a moment. Russia recognizes it as a phone. America squints at it for a moment before putting it his ear.

Next to Russia, a loud ringing sounds. He jolts and grabs the cell phone from his pocket, answering the call and then holding it to his ear.

"Da?"

_"Where are you? Is that you in the black car?"_ America asks on the other end.

Russia blinks, "No, it is not. Alfredka, don't go after random cars!" The Russian man grabs the door handle and forces it open, seeing America walk slowly towards a black car that he didn't recognize. "Don't continue towards it, dummy!"

America growls into the phone. _"Hey, you're the one who just ran off. Come and get me, it's dark and Prussia stole my glasses."_

"Would you like me to retrieve them?" Russia offers, seething. How dare that idiot Prussia take something that was crucial to his dear America's sight away from him with no warning and without asking for permission?

_"Yeah, that would be nice."_ The American's voice is irritated._ "Where even are you, I—AHHHH!"_ America screams and drops his phone as Russia lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Alfredka, it is just me!" Ivan exclaims worriedly.

"Oh." America breathes. He drops to the ground and grabs his phone, then stands up and squints. His hand captures Russia's. "Okay, take me inside, I really can't see much of anything that's not in my immediate line of sight."

The Russian stares at their joined hands for a good twenty seconds, face growing more and more red the longer he looked, before he finally takes America inside. Irritated, he goes straight for Prussia, dragging America along with him. The Prussian man is wearing America's glasses and chugging beer down like there's no tomorrow.

Russia growls, plucks the glasses off his face, and hands them to America. The blonde puts them on and blinks a few times, then smiles.

"Thanks, Vanya!" He exclaims. His eyes are lit up like a Christmas tree and his grin is bright like the sun.

"Yes, well, I must be going now—"

"But I still have your coat and scarf!" America interrupts, gesturing to the long coat he was wearing and the scarf he holds in his hands.

"That is okay, Alfredka. Just give them back at the next meeting, da?"

America looks down, then his head jerks up. "But... If you don't stay, who will warm up my hands?" He asks innocently, holding out his hands. They were turning purple.

"I cannot, sorry, Alfredka. My hands are always very cold, trying to warm yours will just make them colder."

It's not that Russia didn't want to hold America's hands and warm him up—in fact, he wanted to do the exact opposite. He wanted to keep his love warm and cozy at all times. But he was a cold nation, and a cold nation couldn't possibly warm anyone up.

America frowns. "Liar." He says simply. Then, he pounces on Ivan, shoving his hands under the man's arms.

"AH! A-Alfred! What are you doing?!"

"Warming my hands up!" America starts wiggling his fingers with a sly grin.

"A-Ah! Alfred s-stop, I—AHAHAHAHAHHA!" Russia bursts into forced laughter as America starts tickling him. He can't help but fall forwards, causing the two to topple over. America slams into the ground, Russia right on top of him. Face to face. Nose to nose.

The blonde beneath Russia blinks as if he's not full aware of the position the two are in. Russia, on the other hand, is totally aware and suddenly paralyzed. America looked so cute with his hair splayed out around his face like that, and his eyes, so wide and full of curiosity, were perfect to him. He wanted to kiss America so, so badly. But he didn't know how. He didn't know how he could just kiss such a pure being so suddenly and not be rejected and laughed at.

Suddenly, there's a heel to his head, forcing it downwards. His lips collide with America's and he makes a noise of protest, eyes going completely wide. America's eyes are wide too. He reaches out and shoves the hand off of Russia's foot, gasping when the silver-haired man pulls away.

They stare at each other.

"Let's do that again!" America suddenly exclaims, smiling widely. And then, he flips the two over, pinning Russia into the hard wood floor and kissing him.

Russia melts underneath him, wrenching the blonde's neck down and keeping him close. He was suddenly aware that he was a liar.

A frozen nation really could feel warmth.


End file.
